


Two Pieces

by slightlyrebelliouswriter



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Em's 1k Celebration, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyrebelliouswriter/pseuds/slightlyrebelliouswriter
Summary: Manon can't sleep. Dorian takes her on a walk through Rifthold.
Relationships: Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Two Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Illyrianwitchling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illyrianwitchling/gifts).



> mysweetvilllain on Tumblr asked: "Two Pieces by Demi Lovato + Manorian fluff" for my 1K Drabble Dash

Often, the cruel bitterness of the early hours sang a claw down Manon’s skin, keeping her awake. The moon was not always kind either. Its light pealed across the backs of her eyes, fraying at her mind.

Manon huffed and rolled over.

Dorian, fast asleep beside her, had his back to her. His hair was an ink spill across the pillow. She stared at the angulate lines of him that pulled the fabric of his shirt into ripples. When he reached one hand behind him, Manon slid her hand along the silk sheets, hooking her pinky in his. Their signal.

_Are you awake?_

Dorian gave a sigh. Turned over. “Can’t sleep?” He hummed and took up her hand proper. His eyelids drooped like two pale snowdrops as he beat back the surge of slumber.

Manon shook her head. He kissed her palm, and then they went. Down the turret stairs, out their chamber doors. Surreptitious as whispers, they went unnoticed by the guards.

Sometimes, Dorian would mutter, “We need new guards.” Tonight, he merely twined their fingers together.

They donned the night and cloaks deep blue as his eyes. Cool air and Dorian’s hand soothed her, smoothed the sharpness of her nerves which seemed always to stand on end at times most inconvenient.

Sleep was a capricious thing for them both. Moonlit strolls had quickly become a ritual between them, made before the altar of dark and daybreak. They would wander the cobbled streets until they became lost in them. Then, they would wander until they found their way back home.

When Manon had met Dorian, they’d been all fractured glass turned outward. The war might have broken them completely, scattered the pieces had they not clung so closely to each other.

As dawn bruised the sky a feeble lilac, Manon held Dorian’s hand tighter.

They passed bakeries blooming with buttery smells; bleary markets pulling back the canvas of their stalls for the day.

They came upon an open square, and Dorian walked into a cafe. He returned with a bracing cup of tea and a creamed scone for them to share. He picked up an old book from one of the market stalls. He grossly overpaid the merchant.

Manon chose a bench for them to sit and watch the morning ripen.

When the tea had been drained to the dregs, scone crumbs lining their lips, Manon leaned her head on Dorian’s shoulder and listened to the soft thrum of his voice as he read to her aloud.

She knew she was welded to him. They would always be a filigree of wounds, two pieces of a stained glass mural. Something beautiful birthed from pain and their own ferocity. But this city, these routines, these things that bound them—they were theirs.

And Manon closed her eyes at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, I'm a trollop for comments so please leave any kind ones below. I'm slightlyrebelliouswriter23 on Tumblr if you want to find me there.   
> -Em 🖤💫


End file.
